My Bookslut Resolution for 2014?
I want to rebuild my library.
See, once upon a time, I had this beautiful library, housed inside two beautiful six-foot bookcases that still overflowed even despite their size (and that I loved so much they even had names), that I had been building up ever since I was a little girl.
That library was my pride and joy. That library was the only place I had that was home.
And then there came my Epic Appalachian Escape, in which I literally had to just throw my cats and as many of my belongings as I could fit into my friends car and leave behind everything else, everything, in order to extricate myself from my incredibly unstable and abusive family. (My family who then called the cops on me, incidentally. Just for moving out of their house. At age twenty-two.)
I lost the vast majority of that library, then.
(Leaving everything I’d ever known behind and launching myself right into a very nebulous and uncertain future instead — that, I could do. Losing my library? That was a bitch. Bookslut priorities, indeed.)
Now, I’ve acquired many more books since then, of course. I work in a bloody bookstore for a reason, after all.
But I don’t have a library, not anymore.
I don’t have gorgeous bookcases in which to put them. They aren’t meticulously, obsessively, organised. I see them all as individual books, here and there, not one ridiculously sprawling whole all contained one space where I can fawn over them.
They aren’t a library.
Because to me, a library means home, and I didn’t know if a luxury like that could ever really be mine. After all, what would happen when I — inevitably, I thought — had to leave again? I couldn’t feasibly expect to take an entire library with me, especially not if I had to run away again, if I had to leave with very little warning.
But in 2014, I’ve decided, fuck that.
I’m someplace now that I actually want to call home, that I don’t want to leave, and so dammit, I will have a library here.
Because after all, what home is complete without one? :)
A library makes this official.
And so lovely new bookcases shall be acquired, and I’ll begin the process of rebuying old favourites to fill them, and a library will be built, and that will be that.
And my Writerly Resolution for 2014?
I am going to throw myself, whole-heartedly, into following my muse. I will rip every single word out of myself that I have locked away, I will break down my mental walls like bones until sentences run like blood, and I will give myself over to this.
Partly because this is what I was built for. Partly because I’ve no real choice in the matter. (My muse is an insistent sort of thing, it seems, and it owns me so thoroughly that even my viciously stubborn brain is absolutely overcome.)
But mostly just because this, too, is what I want.
2013 was the year where I truly found my muse, and fuck me sideways if I’m not going to spend 2014 holding on and giving in.
Happy 2014 to all of you beautiful people, and I hope your upcoming year is every bit as beautiful as you. ♥